Pain, Flame and all the Contraptions
by Fannon Cannon
Summary: Tired with a string of losses to the robot horde, the RED team does the unthinkable: They trade classes with each other. Plenty of slapstick and life lessons ensure.
1. Chapter 1: Whatever I Can Do

_Wave lost, I'm running out of patience!_ - The Announcer's voice boomed over the intercom to the disheartened, discouraged and dispirited respawning mercenaries. As if she really needed to remind them of how bad their situation was, it wasn't like they hadn't experienced defeat at their metal counterparts hands for the, what was it now, twelfth time?

"Dammit Spy, why aren't you fulfilling your primary duties and taking care of those medics, frenchie!" The RED Soldier barked at the RED Spy, making every bit of how infuriated he was clear.

"In my defence!" The Spy snapped back. "It is a little hard to backstab them when you all keep triggering their Ubers. Perhaps if the Engineer learnt to control his damn toy, I would be given enough time before those Pyros figure out I'm not one of them!"

"If you're asking to donate hands, I could certainly use the extra pair around here!" The RED Texan replied in mock honesty, but making his displeasure all the more clear.

"And as for you, little hippie!" The Solider turned on the young RED Scout, attempting to draw as much people into the conversation as possible. "Those money grabbing skills of yours are looking pretty damn rusty!"

"Will you cut it out?" The Scout defended himself, and the argument was taken to new heights.

All the while the RED Heavy and Medic were observing the scene, taking it all in.

"Dummkopfs!" The Medic uttered to himself.

"Tell me, where did we go so wrong?" The Heavy asked in woe.

"Heavy." The Medic replied. "I have no idea." He said in plain bitterness.

"Maybe Doktor." The giant Russian pondered to the smaller German. "Maybe it is to do with… you know… Mannworks." He suggested timidly.

And with good reason, for at the sound of Mannworks, the Medic shot up, turning to the Heavy with blatant displeasure.

"I told you, Heavy, don't mention that." He demanded briskly.

"I know Doktor." The Heavy admitted. "It's just that, things have been going so bad since we left, I thought that maybe…"

"Please Heavy, don't think." The Medic snapped. "Let me do the thinking, and we didn't leave, we were driven out." He finished on another tone of bitterness as that last part.

"I know Doktor." The Heavy repeated. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know Heavy." The Medic responded, lowering his aggressive tone. "I think I need a lie down, all this medicing is really getting to me." He finished, before taking his leave to the barracks.

Heavy was feeling tired himself; everything was going so fast for him, ever since they had lost Mannworks to the robot horde, everything was going so fats for everyone. The Heavy could tell that the Medic was taking it the most out of the whole team, like it was his responsibility and he managed to screw it all up, and now the RED team was ever pressed back by the robots, causing stress and general discomfort in everyone.

Since their retreat from Mannworks, the RED and BLU teams had been divided to defend both Decoy and Coaltown respectively. At first the idea of working with their long time enemies had seemed like such an entertaining prospect, but now they never saw each other, making the whole prospect of them working together seem bleak and pointless.

The Heavy was starting to understand why everything seemed so bad. When they fought the BLUs, there was variety, they would defend in Payload and Control Points and they would fight tug of war in Capture the Flag. There was much fun to be had, and the variety ensured that they were never in one place doing one thing for far too long. But now wit these robots to contend with, they were rooted in the little scrap of land that was Decoy, fighting the same enemies in the same way, sometimes winning, sometimes losing. But the staleness of it was starting to get to just about everyone, and it was not helped at all by the Administrator reminding them that if they couldn't hold back the metal horde, then they would be overrun again, and could risk their lives, or worse, their jobs.

Not wanting to think of it further, the Heavy picked up his Sandvich and chowed down in an attempt to set his mind at ease. The heavy munching sounds he made certainly seemed to block out all the uneasiness he was feeling, until suddenly a thought struck him in his meal.

"What was that, Sandvich?" The giant man pondered of his treat, listening intently for what it had to divulge.

"Hah! Good idea!" He exclaimed aloud, and immediately got up, to make preparations for his newfound plan.

"Okay Heavy, what really good idea do you have that warrants us all here?" The Spy asked sluggishly of the Heavy, for now they had all assembled in front of him.

"I have talked it over with Announcer and Medic." The Heavy recited proud of such a feat.

"Err, Heavy?" The German posed. "Maybe I should explain it." He suggested.

"Oh, yes, that will work." The Heavy reasoned.

"Ahem." The Medic cleared his throat before making his speech. "Considering our current state, the Heavy has formulated a plan that he believes could help our chances."

There was a general murmur mixing between eagerness and indifference. The Medic took note of it before continuing.

"Therefore, the Heavy believes this plan will confuse and baffle those robots, thus giving us an element of surprise, and it will also liven things up around here, surely I am not the only one feeling so bored right now." He continued, getting a very different reaction from the crowd of mercenaries, now much more eager then before.

"Let's just hear it." The Engineer asked in impatience.

"Okay." The Medic took a deep breath before announcing the plan. "Every one of us will swap roles and equipment with everyone else."

The group didn't quite understand what he said, so the Medic phrased it better for them.

"We are going to swap roles with each other, understand that?" He asked nervously awaiting the response.

They did understand that, and in an instant they were much confusion and the makings of another argument, something the Medic desperately wanted to avoid.

"How's that even gonna work?" The Scout demanded of the Medic, who was more then happy to reply.

"Through surgery, we can implant our certain physical skills onto each other, and also implant the means to use the different equipment with ease." He explained.

"Don't tell me Heavy figured out how to do that." The Engineer asked with worry.

"Of course not." The Medic snapped. "I worked out the majority of it, but the Heavy gave me the idea."

The mercenaries went silent after that, not sure of what to make of it. Internally, they did all share some excitement at the thought, and they had grown quite tired of the whole ordeal, so maybe this would be a good thing. Or maybe it would fail miserably, either way, the robots wouldn't see it coming.

"So err, who's going to be who?" The Sniper inquired eagerly.

The Medic was more then happy to oblige him.

"The Heavy will be." He began with some hesitation. "The Pyro."

The Heavy already knew he was going to be the Pyro, but as for the team's arsonist, they couldn't quite determine whether it was on board for such a suggestion.

"Mmmrph mp hrr myymh." It simply groaned, the Medic was quick to explain the situation to it.

"Don't worry Pyro." He said. "You will be the Spy."

Now that caused a proper reaction all round, especially from the Spy and Pyro.

"You can't be serious." The Spy cried out in disgust, but the Medic was quick to interject.

"I'm afraid all the preparations have already been made, we can't switch classes now." He said to the troubled Frenchmen.

"Well then, who am I going to be?" He asked in concern.

"You will be the Engineer." The Medic informed.

"Now hold on there mister." The Engineer cut in as predicted, while the Spy simply pondered the scenario in private.

"And you will be the Scout." The Medic quickly replied.

"Oh, okay." He simply accepted at the thought. "I do spend all day sitting on my kiester anyway."

"And me…" The Scout asked, clearly afraid of the answer.

"How does Heavy sound?" Was his reply.

"Umm." He simply muttered, while the Medic was grateful that he wasn't his usual chatterbox self.

"And what about you, doctor?" The Spy asked, turning the attention to the Medic in question.

"I will be…"The Medic began with a sinister glint in his eyes. "The Demoman."

"What?" The explosives expert barked in shock.

"And you will be the Sniper." The Medic quickly replied.

"Gah!" The Australian also barked.

"And you will be the Soldier." The Medic informed him.

"Oh?" The gruff American muttered.

"And you will be me!" The Medic responded optimistically.

After that, the team simply sat in stunned silence, contemplating in private the roles they had been assigned.

"Well, I think that settles it." The Medic simply answered to the silence. "If there is nothing else to do, you should all get ready for the surgery."

And with that, he left the stunned group to worry about a process they were all so keen to forget, to tend to his plans for when the robots would come again.

The Heavy simply chuckled to himself.

"I am credit to team." He boasted.


	2. Chapter 2: Outsmart Mmmph

Instead of doing what some of the team considered being the right thing and having everyone instantly assume the roles assigned to them, Heavy and Medic both agreed that it would be best for everyone to go at it one at a time. Therefore, they could properly adjust to their new role in the presence of mercenaries they were still used to. Of course, none of the mercenaries were too keen on going first, so the Heavy thought to himself that since it was all his idea, he should accept the responsibility of going first in a trial run as the team's new arsonist.

The surgery was tough for sure, the Medic had never done anything like it before, but he soon managed to morph and mutate the Heavy's physical condition to suit that of the Pyro.

"But wait Doktor?" The Heavy asked. "Why do I look the same?"

"Haven't I explained this to you before." The Medic replied irritated. "You still the Heavy, but now your speed and strength have been altered to the Pyro's, see?"

"It is no wonder I feel so weak now." The Russian replied, feeling like he could no longer take all the abuse he was so used to by now.

But instead he felt a certain resistance to fire about him, like he could walk through a burning building and be indifferent to it all.

The Medic would have done other tests to see if the Heavy was synced right up to the Pyro, but with the pressure of the other teammates to prepare and the relentless of the robots, he couldn't spare the time, so it wasn't long before the Heavy found himself up front in Decoy alongside the Pyro awaiting the beginning of the new round.

"Mmmph rrph mr mmh mp." The Pyro moaned from under the mask.

"Don't worry little man, fire is friend now." The Heavy replied eagerly as the clock ticked down to zero.

Internally, the arsonist was awaiting the chance when it could become invisible, and not have to worry about competition.

_We're under attack protect this facility._

It wasn't long after that when metal jumped down upon them, and how fitting for it to be Pyro's. The Heavy would have been more comfortable backed up next to a dispenser with Sasha, but the excitement he felt dominated everything else, and without thought he pressed his finger to the flamethrower's trigger and got to work.

It didn't take him long to succumb completely to the robot's flamethrowers, and was sent crashing to the ground immediately. When the Russian respawned, he felt embarrassed to have fallen so soon, and rolled out the door resolving to do better this time. When he rejoined the battle, he found the Pyro performing it's usual hit and run tactics, keeping at a reasonable distance from it metal counterparts whilst still within reach of the flames, and they appeared to be crudely mocking it in style.

Deciding that to be a more efficient method of attack, the Heavy put his newfound speed to good use, always on his feet this time round, attempting to keep up with the Pyro's tactics, and soon enough he began to enjoy the challenge, he was still biting the dust more then any of the team were, but the bomb was being kept at bay for now.

He was surprised when metal copies of himself suddenly appeared on the battlefield, matching his speed, but carrying those cumbersome flaming gloves, and the Heavy felt grateful that he could go at such speeds and didn't have to worry about taking more damage as a result. When he got right up close to one of them, and gave it a faceful of fire, he could have sworn he heard it cry out in shock as it collapsed in a heap.

"Medic!" The Heavy yelled when things became too much for him.

In an instant, his trusty German friend was on him, healing up his wounds with the equally trusty Medi Gun, but the Heavy was surprised when he swiftly turned away from him as soon as he was done, attending to the rest of the team.

"Wait Doktor, we go together." He called, whilst still keeping his eye on the robots, performing the necessary tactics.

"You are not the Heavy no more." The Medic was quick to remind him, before zooming off to attend to the calling Soldier.

That thought was enough for the Heavy to stop and think to himself, his blindness allowing a robot to deal a deathblow. When he respawned, he felt saddened that the Medic would no longer be supporting him the way he used to, instead it would be little Scout that would receive the attention from now on.

_Alert, there are Spy's incoming._

That though was enough to snap the Heavy out of it, for no longer would he fall victim to the Spy's as easily this time round, in fact he was their arch nemesis. As he soon found out, the metal Frenchmen weren't so cautious around fire as the flesh and blood Frenchman was, and to his shock a knife managed to embed itself in his back, an all too familiar feeling sending him to respawn again.

The RED team managed to slug it's way to the last round, and the new Pyro wondered if he had made a contribution to that result. He certainly was unsure, often times he was grateful for the change, but others he felt incredibly lesser, when his new health meant he couldn't take stare down a giant Heavy as he could have done in his other form.

Things were going so well when a giant Soldier wielding a Giant Original came bursting through surrounded by Medics, managing to make it's way to the bridge leading onto the bomb hole when the Heavy saw an opportunity to be very useful. Getting up close, he airblasted what Medic's it had left into the ravine down below, and using what skill he had learnt that day, airblasted the slow rockets it fired right back at it, managing to damage it to the point where it fell to the combined efforts of the team.

Pleased with how well he had utilised the flamethrower, the Heavy couldn't celebrate just yet for a tank was making it's way up to finish what the robots couldn't. Instantly the team was upon it, giving it all they had, with the Heavy up close wishing the flames he was emitting were working. The tank crept right up to the bomb hole where it finally fell as it's own bomb was posed in a diving position, securing a narrow victory for the REDs.

As with all victories follow a string of defeats, the mercenaries wasted no time in properly celebrating. There was many goof thoughts going around instead of the bitterness that followed defeat, but none were sure yet if it had anything to do with the change in members.

"Well gentlemen." The Medic posed to the group. "Any thoughts yet?"

Not much of a response did he get, and he could understand why.

"Did I do good, Doktor?" The Heavy asked eagerly.

"You did fine." The Medic assured him.

"Hah!" The giant exclaimed.

"Hrr mmph." The Pyro cut in.

"But you did better." The Medic responded, before addressing the group again. "Now, who's up next?"

Silence initially greeted him, and he was just about to offer himself up, until the Scout had a sudden eagerness in him…

* * *

**I usually hate the thought of this, but since I got a decent enough reception the first time round, I don't suppose I could get a review or two, they offer so much insight and guidance, see?  
**


	3. Chapter 3: Faster Than A Pootis

"Oh Sasha I missed you so much." The Heavy greeted his one true flame with immense satisfaction, though also with some foreboding. If this scheme of theirs worked out, he wouldn't have a lot of time left with Sasha before he would once again return to the flamethrower, but in the meantime he could enjoy what metal carnage he would be reaping with her for the moment.

"Y'know what I prefer the Tommie anyway." The Scout reminded himself upon seeing how attached the Heavy was to his weapon of choice. If he would be having his first taste as life as the Heavy he preferred to use something a little light weight that suited him better.

In truth, the Scout was facing some anxiety in addition to enthusiasm with the role of Heavy. If there was ever a time to hang up the old running shoes and settle for some heavy duty trench boots, now seemed like the best time for it, and it would be nice to have something that didn't require as much frantic dexterity that the Scout had become so used to that it was becoming quite old for him by now. But if there was one thing the Scout really liked about the whole process, it would have been a newfound opportunity to be the centre of attention, and it would be very different to hopping about the battlefield with his bat but standing tall and enduring in front of the robot horde. They would never see it coming.

So the morning dawned on Decoy with a once again reshuffled Red team, and needless to say, the young Bostonian noticed the effects of the surgery the night before almost instantly. Instead of hopping out of bed and halfway to the drawers in flash, one leg slugged it way from the covers and fell to the floor in one extreme quake, joined at a much slower rate by the next one, and eventually the Scout had managed to get himself up into a sitting position, already feeling like his was bearing a large bear on his shoulders. Realising that if his was in his usual garb, he would be fully dressed and halfway up the field by now, the new Heavy took considerable effort in getting up to a standing position, his bed suddenly springing up full of life again.

Taking just as long to get dressed, he now had time to make a proper analysis of himself. The bandolier hung loosely over his shoulder felt like it was getting in his way far too much then he preferred, and after much fiddling with it to get it right, he simply decided to go without it. His red shirt felt a lot like his own, but the Scout had to tuck most of it into his waist in order for it to fit, and the same could be said of the pants that still managed to feel constrictive around the Scout's little frame.

But what he did appreciate was the size of his forearms, no longer did he have to pretend that the muscles were there, now they simply were, and the Scout no longer felt like he needed a bat to bust someone's skull in. When it came time for him to pick his arsenal, he immediately went for the Tomislav out of the big primaries; though the Scout was now much tougher, he couldn't quite get the feel of the other Miniguns yet, but that heavily modified Tommie was the closest he could get to a comfortable grip. Still nothing like his scattergun which the Scout had mastered so perfectly by now, he trouble simply getting the Minigun into a firing position, and more than once he ended up dropping it because his grip wasn't strong enough, often on his feet causing him to jump with pain.

As for the secondary's, the Scout didn't need any prompts on what to pick; time and time again he had mockingly ridiculed the BLU Heavy by stealing his sandvich, which proved a delicious treat, and now he could have his very own to eat all to himself. But then a thought struck him, healing was plentiful to come by when fighting the robots, and when it wasn't it was preferable to be on the go rather than privately munching on a snack, so instead he decided to go with the Dalokohs Bar, realising how long it had been since he had chocolate.

When it came to picking his melee weapon, the Scout was initially torn. One half wanted to go with that shiny pair of brass knuckles the Heavy would sometimes wear, for he swung them just as fast as the Scout swung his bat. But again, he didn't fancy the thought of facing down those robots one on one with those weak chucks. His attention was drawn over to the Gloves of Running Urgently, for the speed seemed like something he could use and it would certainly make him feel like his old self. But finally, the Scout decided on the mighty Fists of Steel, having the confidence that he would be smart enough to stay out of melee range and still appreciate the range defence they offered.

"Oh, look at little Scout now." The Heavy called out as he saw his replacement approach. "You are not so little man now."

The Scout would have bonked him on the head but since it took him a lot longer than he was comfortable with to simply get up to the Heavy's reach, he decided that perhaps his new role came with the verbal jabs.

"Let's just go." He simply said, and the team once again resumed their defensive positions.

One big part of the Scout wanted to rush right up to the gate, but merely one foot in and he realised how useless he would be up front, so instead he simply opted to jog on the spot, but with the heavy Minigun threatening to drop he found it too hard to do both things at the same time.

_We're under attack. Protect this facility. – _The Announcer boomed over the intercom.

The Scout frankly would have liked more time to prepare, but already soldier bots had descended upon the awaiting Pyro and disguised Spy. Instantly rockets were blasted in all directions, a large cluster zooming towards to two Heavies attended by the Medic. The Scout's first instinct was to dodge them, but he retained his head and simply aimed his weapon and fired at the group. He took the brunt of the rockets, but instead of feeling darkness as they blew him bit to bit, he instead felt a simple condensed pain, almost enough to bring him down, but the Medic on hand was determined to keep him there and stay there the Scout did.

Now the Scout started to feel certain easiness about his new capabilities. He didn't have to aim as much, just as long as he kept his barrel focused on the robots, taking down many and watching them burst into piles of money. He wanted to run up and grab it all but his severe lack of speed rendered him useless at doing so, but the entire team realised how important it was to get as much money as they could and so the Heavy came up with a plan.

"Come giant Scout, let us push up and get money." He yelled when they could afford a break.

"Gotcha." He shouted in return, and the pair of bruisers accompanied by the Medic did their best to hole up at the entrance area to grab as much money as they could. But the mass of metal was unrelenting in their assault and soon the Scout was overcome with rockets and grenades from all sides, eventually succumbing and being sent on his way to the respawn.

On the battle dragged, the RED team sometimes losing and sometimes winning, whilst the new Heavy had plenty of time to get used to his role, what a difference this was to being the Scout. It was plenty slow, he still retained his usual reckless attitude about him, and he sincerely wished that he could run or even double jump, but it proved useless trying to with the task of managing his heavy weaponry. And if he was any good at reading robot faces, he could have sworn that they weren't used to seeing something as small as the Scout move so slow and yet take so much more.

This was especially apparent when the Spybots took to the field. One particular example of the metal Frenchmen had cleverly backstabbed the Engineer and sapped his sentry within milliseconds and suddenly noticed the Scout some distance ahead of it, his back turned and wielding a Minigun with some difficulty. The grinding gears in the metal man almost grinded to a halt, for this was not a usual sight to see, something resembling prospect appeared in its programming and it automatically disguised itself and approached with some caution. Getting up nice and close to the Scout, still occupied with horde in front, the metal automation readied its metal blade under the thin veil of its disguise, primed for the kill when something happened. Another ridicule of a feeling resembling dizziness built up and suddenly overwhelmed the machine, and it burst into the scraps cash that composed it.

The Scout suddenly noticed the incident he had unknowingly caused and turned round to investigate the noise. Observing the wreckage piled at his feet, he saw confused and could not see any potential proponent that had caused it. His moment of hiatus did cost him however, and a more sharply minded Spybot used the opportunity to plant its knife in his back, inducing a feeling the Scout was not usually accustomed to and sending him to respawn. Little did he know however, that after the machine had made its kill, it found that he could not move, rooted to the spot in blindness, before it was destroyed by the RED Spy who had noticed and buried his own knife in his metal counterpart's back, with some pleasure as his felt repulsed by their existence.

What the Scout was not looking forward to was how he would be taking a more forceful role when it came to dealing with the robot giants that were now making their descent on the team. He found there was just no way could he manoeuvre around them, staying in the same place gave them too much time to riddle him with rockets and bullets, and he didn't have the speed to try and keep out of their range whilst still dealing damage, for he rooted himself to the ground when he spun up his Minigun. When he fell more than once, the Scout swore that he could detect some hint of glee on the giant's faces, as if they were showing glad that he was such an easy target. And there was some dreading sensation that the Scout feared when all of a sudden the bomb crept its way up more than once and the dreaded words dawned on him.

_You lost the wave. Perhaps I should just hire them._

"Oh no." The Heavy cried as the team once again devolved into a series of bitter agreeing over who was to blame for the cause of defeat.

"Try to keep a brave face, Herr Heavy." The Medic did his best to consul the Russian, whilst internally battling his own doubts.

"Son, perhaps you should stick to playing baseball." The Engineer was quick to talk down to the new Heavy, who was deciding to have none of it, and turned up his proper attitude for the first time in a while.

"I would love to see you do better." He retorted.

"Well, maybe that's just what we need right now." The Engineer spoke back, and decided that maybe it was time for him to hang up the overalls and don the scattergun and steel bat.


End file.
